The Sea Aflame
by Luke4444
Summary: Kenna returned to the mortal world for a favor. When she gets back 5 months later, things are very different than she left them. To save camp, and rescue her oldest friend, she'll journey to a place that is only told of in legends. But legends are par for the course in the life of a demigod. kinda, but not really, Fem!Percy. Read and review. Next in the Kenna series.
1. Chapter 1

**The Sea Aflame**

**Chapter 1**

**/Kenna/**

My nightmare started like this:

I was standing on a deserted street in some little beach town in the middle of the night. A storm was blowing in; wind and rain ripped at palm trees along the sidewalk. Pink and yellow stucco buildings lined the street, all their windows boarded up. A block away, past a row of bushes, the ocean churned.

_Florida,_ I thought. I don't know what gave me that idea, it really could be anywhere where palm trees grow, but that was what my mind kept telling me.

Then, over the sound of the pounding rain, I heard the familiar clopping of hooves. I turned, and saw Grover running for his life.

For those who don't know, Grover is a satyr; people from Greek and Roman (though they called them fauns, according to my text book) that were human from the waist up, and goat from the waist down. They're all over the states, keeping an eye out for demigods, like me. If you happen to meet one, you might never know it; they've gotten very good at disguising themselves from mortals. To the average mortal they're just another tree hugger/hippy with a weird limp. So really, unless you accidentally catch them with their pants down (which I don't recommend) you'll think nothing of them.

Grover had been my best friend in sixth grade. He and another friend, named Annabeth, had gone on an adventure to save the world. I hadn't seen from him since July when he set off on his own dangerous quest, and I hadn't gotten a letter from him since a month ago, when he said he wouldn't be able to contact me for a while.

Anyway, in the dream, Grover was hauling tail, holding his human shoes in his hands the way he does when he wants to move fast. He clopped past little tourist shops and surfboard rental places. The wind bent the palm trees almost to the ground.

He was terrified of whatever was behind him. He must have just come from the beach, because wet sand was caked his fur. He'd escaped from somewhere, and was trying to escape from…something.

A bone-rattling growl cut through the storm. Behind Grover, at the far end of the block, a large shadowy figure loomed. It swatted aside a street lamp, which burst into a shower of sparks.

Grover stumbled whimpering in fear. He kept muttering to himself the same thing over and over again, like a mantra. _Have to get away. Have to warn them!_

I couldn't see what was after him, but I could hear it grumbling and cursing. The ground shook as it got closer. Grover dashed around a street corner and faltered; dead-end, no time to back up. The nearest door had been blown out by the storm, the sign above read:

**ST. AUGUSTINE BRIDAL BOUTIQUE**

Grover ducked inside, and dove behind a rack of wedding dresses.

The monster's shadow passed in front of the shop. Even in my dream I could smell him: like wet animal hair and rotting meat and drenched in skunk spray.

Grover was trembling behind the dresses, but did his best not to make a sound.

The shadow moved on, and it was silent, save for the pouring rain. Grover took a calming breath.

Lighting flashed, the entire store front exploded, and a monstrous voice bellowed: "MIIIIINE"

Then I woke up

**/****Somewhere in the US/**

"What do you mean you can't find him?!"

The boy flinched back, knowing full well that if he wished, his commander could gut him like fish.

"I-I mean that, if she did have a father, he's long gone."

A tense silence hung in the air, and the temperature seemed to drop.

"Leave me." He whispered

The boy bowed low, "At your command, Luke." He was out the door as quick as his feet could get him there.

"Hmmm, it is as I suspected."

"You knew? Why did you have me searching high and low for someone who didn't exist?! We should hav-"

"DO NOT PRESUME TO ORDER ME, MORTAL!" thundered the voice, Luke fell to his knees, covering his ears, though no one else could hear _Him_. "Do you not think I consider every possibility? One mistake, one miscalculation, is all it takes to be destroyed. Wars aren't won on assumptions, boy, remember that."

"Y-yes, my lord"

"I did not think Hestia had broken her oath, she is far too loyal to do that, but I needed to know for sure."

"Then how was the girl born, my lord?"

The disembodied voice hummed in thought. "The answer is simple. She wasn't."

"wha-"

"Must I do all your thinking, boy? She was _made _not born. There is no other way, so long as Hestia kept true to her oath." The cold voice said as if it was obvious. "Tell me, what do you think the girl would be made from?"

Luke thought for a moment. "The hearth"

"Yes…the hearth. That oh so important candle that has been tended to since my children over threw me; the literal heart of the west." Luke's eyes widened in realization, before anger seemingly came out of nowhere. If Kronos had an intact face, he would be smiling deviously; mortal emotions were so easy to play with. "Did I not tell you the cancer spreads? And now it's walking about, in the flesh."

"Then she needs to be eliminated." Growled out Luke

"All in due time, little servant, but don't you think it would be more interesting to spare her; To watch all that she cares about crash down around her, knowing she can't do anything to stop it?"

**/Kenna/**

My day started out normal, or as normal as the mortal world ever gets. What am I doing out in the mortal world you may ask? Well you see, back in December, Poseidon had asked a favor from mom and me. He wanted us to, well, find his kid.

Mom was very surprised. Apparently she had been working with him on controlling himself, and she was very upset that he was unfaithful yet again. But he explained that it happened a long time ago, at least a couple of years before I was born.

It turned out that he was a Cyclopes named Tyson. I knew as soon as I could see him. One moment he has two big brown eyes, the next it's one giant brown eye.

He went to Meriwether College Prep, which was a 'progressive' school in downtown Manhattan. The whole concept seemed to be to make classes more interesting to children who didn't do well in normal school settings; instead of desks there were beanbag chairs, teachers dressed casually, and we weren't given real grades. I'm sure that it would have worked great, if the teachers weren't so…lax.

Take, for example, my English class today. The whole middle school had read _Lord of the Flies_, where all these kids who got marooned on an island, decided that they should go crazy instead of focusing on being rescued. I don't think I'll ever read that book ever again (or listen to the audio book, as it was for me). For the final exam, our teachers sent us into the break yard to spend an hour unsupervised. There was a wedgie contest where the eighth graders preyed upon the seventh graders, a couple of small pebble fights, and a full tackle basketball game. Most of which was initiated by the local rich snob/bully, Matt Sloan.

Sloan wasn't big or strong, but he had a superiority complex, so he acted like he did. He had eyes like a pit bull, and shaggy brown hair. He always dressed in expensive, but sloppy clothes, like he wanted everybody to see how little he cared about his family's money. One of his favorite stories was how he chipped his front tooth when he took his dad's Maserati out for a joyride, only to crash into a **PLEASE SLOW DOWN FOR CHILDREN **sign.

Ooh, the irony.

Sloan thought he could get away with everything, which he found out was wrong the hard way when he tried to give Tyson a wedgie.

Back to Tyson for a minute: He's about six-foot-three and built like the Abominable snow man. Despite that, Tyson is also one of the sweetest, gentlest people I ever met. My first week, and I was trying to think up a way to talk to him, I had an 'accident' during PE. We had been running laps, with me in the lead, when Sloan kicked my feet out from under me. Tyson saw me fall, and ran a head, plowing through the mass of students like a bowling ball.

"Fire girl hurt?" he asked innocently, worry in his face. At first I was surprised that he had called me that, but I realized it was because I hadn't told him my name, and the fact that I had fiery red hair.

"I…I think so, but I may have sprained my ankle." I tried to stand, but my right foot hurt too much. Seeing my pain, he picked me up, gentile as can be, and carried me to the school nurse. After putting some ice on it, they called my mom to pick me up and take me to the hospital.

Some ambrosia and a sip of nectar later, I was back in tip top shape. Ever since, Tyson considered me his friend. I didn't mind at all. He wasn't the brightest, but he was kind, friendly, and energetic.

Eventually, I got him to show me where he was living. It was an old refrigerator box, in an alley just off of 72nd street. I was appalled. Whoever his mother was, she didn't care about him one bit. I was so mad; I had to restrain myself from setting anything within a block radius on fire. He showed me where he got food when he wasn't at school. It was a lonely old lady a few blocks away. She had thick cataracts over her eyes, snow white hair, and was more than a little senile, but she always made a dozen peanut butter sandwiches just for when Tyson came over, who she thought was her grandson or something. I was happy to know Tyson wasn't eating out of a garbage can or, gods forbid, eating stray dogs and cats (because Cyclopes were supposed to be…well…carnivorous, to put it mildly).

I wanted to bring him to stay with me and mom until school ended, but the building superintendent wouldn't have it. So we settled into giving him some necessities, like new clothes that actually fit him, and a pair of shoes (it was a little difficult in finding one he liked, but it was worth seeing his face light up). His messy back hair was matted with dirt and grime, but I gave him soap to use whenever it rained (it was weird having to explain how to use soap to someone about my age, but whatever).

He reminded me of Grover at times, because he got upset very easily, and cried a lot. His face was a little misshapen, with hard, almost menacing features, but his big dark brown eyes just radiated kindness. His voice was deep, but he didn't talk very well, because this was the first time he had ever gone to school. I when I found out about that, I told him he should never feel bad about the other kids making fun of how he talked, because he was smart enough to learn how to talk all on his own. He blushed bashfully, and said 'thank you'.

Meriwether Prep had taken him on as a community service project, so the rich kids could feel good about themselves. Worse than that, none of the other kids could stand him. At first they had been nice, because they wanted to use his intimidating size and strength to become the head-honcho, but as soon as they found out he wouldn't harm a fly (on purpose at least), they made themselves feel good by picking on him. I became is only friend, which meant he became my only friend too. It was like Yancy all over again.

So, when Matt Sloan snuck up behind him, and tried to give him a wedgie, Tyson panicked. He swatted at Sloan, and sent him flying back a full fifteen feet into the little kids tire swing.

"You freak!" Sloan yelled. "Why don't you go back to your cardboard box!"

Tyson started sobbing. He sat down heavily on the jungle gym, bending the bar, and buried his face in his big hands.

"Take it back, Sloan!" I shouted

He just sneered at me. "Why do you even bother, Pyrrhus? I might actually go out with you if you weren't always sticking up for that _freak._"

I felt fire rage in my veins. The nerve he had… why would he ever think I would go out with him? He sprained my ankle on purpose for gods' sake! Did he think all he had to do to get a girl, was to have lots of money and act like a jerk? How shallow does he think I am! And Tyson isn't a freak! He's a living person!

I tried to voice my thoughts, but Sloan wasn't listening. He and his big ugly friends…wait a minute. Something was off. Usually Sloan had two or three goons with him, but today there were like, a half dozen more, and I definitely hadn't seen them before.

"Just wait till PE, Pyrrhus," Sloan called. "You are _so_ dead."

When first period ended, our English teacher, Mr. de Milo, came outside to inspect the carnage. He pronounced that we'd understood _Lord of the Flies_ perfectly. I disagreed, but I do think we reenacted the book pretty well, short of killing each other. We all passed his course either way.

I promised Tyson to buy him a couple extra peanut butter sandwiches at lunch, and I let him touch my hair (which he found fascinating, and I thought it was cute), before his sobbing subsided.

"I … I am a freak?" he asked me.

"No, Tyson, you are _not_ a freak." I promised, gritting my teeth. "Matt Sloan is the freak. And always will be."

Tyson sniffled. "You are good friend. I miss you next year if… if I can't…"

His voice trembled. He didn't really know what was going to do next year, he just went with the flow as far as life goes. I hadn't been able to think of a way to talk to him about the godly world, about his father, his mother. Why he was abandoned. I wasn't sure how to bring it up during a normal conversation.

"Don't worry big guy," I said. "Everything's going to be fine."

_After school is over_, I tolled myself; _I'm going to tell him, just a few more hours._ He was going to meet Poseidon, his father, in person for the first time. I would make sure of that.

Our next Exam was chemistry. Mrs. Tesla (no relation to the Serbian inventor) told us that we had to mix chemicals until we succeeded in making something explode.*

Yeah, the standards and expectations at Meriwether Prep weren't very high.

Anyways, Tyson was my lab partner. His hands were too big for the tiny vials we were given. So when he reached out to grab one, he knocked the entire tray of chemicals into the trash can, creating a disturbingly bright orange mushroom cloud. At least Mrs. Tesla was smart enough to evacuate the lab and call the hazardous waste removal squads. Apparently the staff had them on speed dial. Afterward, she praised Tyson and me for being natural chemists. We were the first ones who ever aced her exam in less than thirty seconds.

The morning went by fast, and I was grateful, because it kept my mind from worrying too much. I couldn't stand the idea of Grover being in trouble, we had been through too much for him to get hurt. The dream wouldn't leave my thoughts alone. Mom was busy too, going all over the place to talk to the minor gods. She talked about it a little, but she always redirected the conversation to me. So far, the wind gods were still with Olympus (although she said that Boreas had not given her a very warm welcome). She had almost no time to tend the hearth in Olympus, just checking in on it every now and then, but she always made time for me.

In social studies, while we were drawing latitude/longitude maps, I opened my note book. Inside, I had taped a picture Annabeth had sent to me from her trip to D.C. She was wearing jeans and a denim jacket over her neon orange camp T-shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a bandanna. She was standing in front of the Lincoln Memorial with her arms crossed over her chest, a proud look on her face, like she had personally designed it. She wanted to be an architect when she grows up, so she's constantly going to and studying famous monuments, and other architects' work. She had e-mailed me the picture after spring break. I looked at it now and then, to remind me of every one still back at camp.

I was about to close my notebook when Matt Sloan reached over and ripped the photo away.

"Hey!"

Sloan checked out the picture and his eyes went wide. "Wow, who's this Pyrrhus? Could you introduce me?"

Sure. Matt Sloan, meet Annabeth. Annabeth, this is a pile of ash.

I grit my teeth and grabbed for it, but he held it out of my reach. Sloan handed it off to his ugly buddies, who snickered and started ripping it up to make spit wads. They were the new kids who must have been visiting, because they were wearing those stupid, **HELLO, MY NAME IS:** tags from the admissions office. The names they put on them made me a little nervous: MARROW SUCKER, SKULL EATER, and the least intimidating, JOE BOB. No human beings have names like that (except Joe Bob, but that couldn't be all that common, could it?). As discrete as possible, I placed my hand over my bracelet.

See, my bracelet isn't just any bracelet that you can find in a mortal store. It actually morphs into a sword, which gets warmer whenever there's a monster nearby.

The bracelet was definitely warm to the touch.

"These guys are moving here next year," Sloan bragged. Yeah right, and I was moving to Antarctica. "I bet they can _pay_ for the tuition, too, unlike your retard** friend."

"He is _not_ retarded." I was this close to sending his nose into the back of his skull.

"You're such a loser, Pyrrhus. Good thing I'm gonna put you out of your misery next period."

The monsters chewed up my photo. I wished I could kill them now, but that would be a _very_ bad idea. There were too many innocent people here that they could hurt, and besides, I had to bring Tyson with me if I left, and I wouldn't be able to get to him, in private, until **after** gym.

The bell rang.

I got caught in the stream of all the other kids heading for the gym, carrying Tyson and me along with them. It was time for PE. Our coach had promised us a free-for-all dodgeball game, Matt Sloan had promised to kill me.

I hoped I wouldn't get eaten by monsters.

The gum uniform at Meriwether is sky blue shorts, and tie-dyed T-shirts. To everyone's great relief, most of the activities were inside, so we didn't have to jog through Tribeca looking like a hippy boot-camp.

I changed quickly so I could…well, there's no good way of saying this, but so I could help Tyson change. Shortly after we became friends, he asked me to stand guard outside the weight room. Apparently, some of the boys had teased him while he was changing. One thing lead to another and locker doors got lodged in the concrete walls, or so the school gossip said. He'd been changing in the weight room ever since.

When we got into the gym, Coach Nunley was sitting at his little desk reading _Sports Illustrated._ Nunley was one of those classic examples of teachers being too old to teach. Both his teeth and his hair were mostly gone and he wore comically large glasses. He reminded me of the Oracle at camp Half-Blood, a shriveled-up old mummy, except Nunley moved a lot less and never billowed green smoke.

Well, not that I heard anyway.

"Can I be captain?" Matt Sloan asked.

"Eh?" Coach Nunley looked up, his eyes magnified by his glasses. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Mm-hmm."

Sloan grinned and took charge of picking. He made me the other team captain, but it didn't matter who I picked, because all the jocks and popular kids automatically went over to Sloan's side, and so did the monsters.

On my side I had Tyson, Corey Bailer, Raj Mandali, and half a dozen other kids who always got picked on by Sloan and his gang. On a normal day I would have been just fine with just Tyson, he was half a team by himself, but the monsters were almost as tall as Tyson, and there was six of them.

I prayed to mom, and to any other god that would help, to let them _not_ attack with all these mortals around. If it was just me and them, fine. Just don't let anyone else get hurt.

**/LINE BREAK/**

***I don't know about other schools, but mine were very clear about this. It is EXTREAMLY DANGEROUS to mix (or inhale or ingest) chemicals without teacher supervision. My chemistry class last year also talked about what we should and shouldn't do, which included doing something that would require a hazardous waste squad to come clean up. It's an unnecessary risk to student health and uses a lot of tax payer dollars. **

****Spread the word to end the word. Seriously people, there is no good use for this word. It, along with other derogatory names such as the 'N' word, has no place in the English language. **

'**Nuff said.**

**/LINE BREAK/**

**Hey there guys!**

**Good gods, it's great to get back in the grove.**

**Like I had promised in my Author's note, I will shift my focus from whatever Kenna did between August and January (the start of second semester for Meriwether Prep.), back to the main events. Keep in mind, I still have school work to keep up with, so my update speed won't be like it was when I started Flame of the West, but it should be better than when I was working on Kenna's original quest. If not, then that's just life screwing with me.**

**I'm looking forward to working in **_**Sea of Monsters**_**, and I hope it will be just as good as the last.**

**Please leave reviews! As always, I need your advice to improve my writing skills, so leave a helpful review if you could.**

**Speaking of reviews, I really appreciate all the support I have found in you guys (and gals). You don't know what it means to me to know people enjoy my writing. Thank you.**

**In particular, I would like to thank **_ro781727_. **You have been one of my most adamant reviewers, and we've 'talked' enough that I can confidently say that you are my reviewer of the Month. Cookies for you: (::)(::)(::)(::)**

**Have a nice night!**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Sea Aflame**

**Chapter 2**

**(Aka: Welcome to the Taxi ride of Death, please sign the waver form)**

**I do not own the **_**Percy Jackson and The Olympians**_** series, or any other works made by Rick Riordan. I do not make or seek monetary gain from this; I do not seek credit for other people's work.**

_Last time on SA:_

_Sloan grinned and took charge of picking. He made me the other team captain, but it didn't matter who I picked, because all the jocks and popular kids automatically went over to Sloan's side, and so did the monsters._

_On my side I had Tyson, Corey Bailer, Raj Mandali, and half a dozen other kids who always got picked on by Sloan and his gang. On a normal day I would have been just fine with just Tyson, he was half a team by himself, but the monsters were almost as tall as Tyson, and there was six of them._

_I prayed to mom, and to any other god that would help, to let them not attack with all these mortals around. If it was just me and them, fine. Just don't let anyone else get hurt._

**/Kenna/**

"Scared," Tyson mumbled. "Smell funny."

I looked at him, surprised. "The new kids?"

"Yeah, smell bad."

I suppose it wasn't farfetched for him to be able to smell monsters, him being a Cyclopes and all. "Okay. Tyson, can you do something for me?" he nodded vigorously. "If something bad happens, like _really_ bad, get the other kids out first," he looked a bit uncertain. "Promise me?"

"Okay, I promise."

Sloan blew the coach's whistle and the game began. Sloan's team ran for the center line. On my side, Raj yelled something in Urdu, something along the lines of "I have to go potty!" and ran for the exit, Corey tried to crawl behind one of the wall mats and hide, and everyone else was doing their best to cower in fear and not look like targets.

One of the monsters threw one at me, I sidestepped just in time. It whizzed past me and nailed Raj in the knees, dropping him to the floor. The other team exploded in laughter.

Another ball came at me. I ducked, and it hit the wall mat with a WHOOM, and Corey yelped.

I yelled at Sloan's team, "Hey! You're going to kill somebody!" I don't know why I said it, because I knew they weren't going to listen to me. Maybe I subconsciously hoped that Coach Nunley would do something, but he wouldn't wake up if an asteroid was about to hit the earth.

Joe Bob grinned at me evilly. Somehow, he looked a lot bigger than before…even bigger than Tyson. His biceps bulged beneath his T-shirt. "I hope so, Kenna Pyrrhus! I hope so!"

All around Matt Sloan, the monsters were growing in size. They no longer looked like some big kids, but eight-foot-tall giants with wild eyes, pointed teeth, and hairy arms tattooed with snakes and hula women and Valentine hearts.

Matt Sloan dropped his ball. "Whoa! You're not from Detroit! Who…"

The other kids on his team started screaming and backing toward the exit, but the one named Marrow Sucker threw a ball with deadly accuracy. It streaked past Raj (who had gotten back up and was now very close to the door) and hit the door, slamming it shut like magic. Raj and some of the other kids pounded and pounded, but it just wouldn't budge.

"Let them go!" yelled at them. I couldn't let this happen, there were too many people here, too much risk of them getting killed.

The one called Joe Bob growled at me. He had a tattoo on his biceps saying: JB luvs Babycakes. "And lose our tasty rewards? No, daughter of fire, we Laistrygonians aren't just here for you. We want lunch!"

He waved his hand and a new batch of dodgeballs appeared on the center line- but they weren't made of red rubber. They were bronze, the size of cannon balls, perforated like wiffle balls, with fire bubbling out the holes.

"Tyson! Now would be a good time to get them out of here!"

"But-"

He had a pleading look in his brown eye, but I restrained myself from agreeing. The mortals couldn't do anything to the monsters, they couldn't defend themselves, but I could.

"Please Tyson, you promised."

He frowned, but immediately started picking up the kids who were too scared to move, and carried them to the only door left; the boys' locker room.

Before they reached the door, it slammed shut. "Where do you think you're going?! You only get to leave when you're out!" roared Marrow Sucker. "And you're not out until we eat you!"

He reached down for one of the fiery balls, which I could sense was searing hot, and picked it up with ease. The other kids started to really scream, probably thinking Sloan's thugs were getting ready to throw Molotov cocktails around (it wouldn't have been the first time). If they could see what I could, a bunch of bloodthirsty cannibalistic giants, they would be hysterical.

He launched the fireball at the crowd, who scattered before it blasted a crater in the gym floor.

I pulled on my bracelet, firestorm, and let it morph into a three foot long sword of celestial bronze. Two of the giants saw me and threw fireballs; I rolled and pulled the fire out, drawing it around me. The empty bronze balls crashed and lodged themselves in the wood flooring.

I charged, bringing the fight to them. They swiped and kicked and stomped, but they were too slow to catch me. I kept myself quick and fluid, stopping only briefly to strike. It was the technique that I had been working on with Clarisse, and it boiled down to "float like a butterfly, sting like a bee". I didn't have the power to really go head on with most monsters, but I could make them overexert themselves, and attack with quick and deadly blows. I sliced at one's calf muscle, bringing it down to my level. Spinning, I sliced my blade through its throat. It burst, coating me with a light coat of monster dust.

"Bad!" I heard, Tyson yell from behind me. A fire ball streaked in, and blew up in the face of the monster that I hadn't noticed sneak up on me. He went up in a column of flame.

"Thanks!" I yelled back at him.

"My brothers!" wailed Joe Bob in outrage. "You'll pay for that!"

"Lighten up!" I yelled back, "it's only dodgeball."

He roared, and started throwing balls like crazy. The best I could do was to put out the fire before they exploded, and even then I was missing some. One flew over Nunley's head and blew up in the bleachers with a huge BOOM! He only tapped his hearing aids, as if the explosions were causing some interference, but he kept on reading his magazine. Sloan just stood off to the side, petrified, as he watched balls of destruction flew in every direction.

This was bad, really, really bad. For sure the entire school, and the neighborhood too, could hear the explosions. Someone was bound to have called the police by now.

"I will feast on your bones, hero! Victory will be mine!"

But Joe Bob wasn't giving up, he was nuts. If we couldn't kill him soon, we'd all be meeting his large intestine.

Then an idea struck me.

I ran towards the boys' locker room. "Move!" I told my team mates, "Away from the door."

They scattered, giving me enough room to do my crazy idea.

"Hey, over here! I'm the one you want." I cried out.

Joe Bob took the bait and threw one right at me. One Mississippi, two Mississippi- I dove at the last second. I felt, more than saw, the fiery ball rocket past me, and crash into the locker room door.

See, even walking by in the hallway I could tell there was a huge gas build up in there. It was disgusting whenever I had to run to the art room, but useful to know now at times like these. In a few moments, there was a huge *WHOOOOM* as the fire ignited the lingering gas.

The wall blew apart. Locker doors, socks, athletic supporters, and various nasty clothing articles rained all over the gym. A mushroom cloud hung in the air.

I saw Tyson directing the kids out as quickly as possible, all of them flowing out onto Church Street, like the gym had sprung a leak.

"No, my food!" he turned to Tyson and me. "You'll pay for that! I'll eat the both of you while you're stil-"

Suddenly the giant's body went rigid. His expression changed from rage to surprise, as a small bronze blade poked its way through his stomach. The ball he was holding dropped out of his hand, as he slowly looked down at the sudden point coming through from behind.

"Ow" he muttered, and burst into a cloud of green flame.

Standing in the smoke was my friend Annabeth. Her face was scratched and covered in dirt. She had a ragged backpack slung on her back, her baseball cap now stuffed in her front pocket, her bronze knife held firmly in her grasp, and a slightly wild look in her storm-grey eyes, like she just ran twenty miles being chased by ghosts.

Matt Sloan, who'd been standing there dumbstruck the entire time, finally came to his senses. He blinked his eyes in disbelief at Annabeth, as he just recognized her from my notebook picture. "Your that girl…can I have your number?"

Annabeth punched him on the nose with an oddly satisfying *crunch*, laying him out flat. "Not in a million years."

The gym was a smoldering mess, kids were still screaming, and I heard sirens wailing. Through the glass windows of the exit doors, I could see the headmaster, Mr. Bonsai, wrestling with the lock as teachers piled up behind him.

"Annabeth…how did…when did you get here?" I said, trying to catch my breath

"About a half hour ago, imagine how surprised I was to find my friend being attacked by monsters?"

I could see that Mr. Bonsai was almost done with the lock now.

"Let's get out of here." I said, "You too Tyson, your sticking with me." We dashed out an open hole in the building just as the door burst open.

**/Line Break/**

We ran into an alley a few blocks down Church Street, which we ducked into just as a fire truck screamed past, back towards the school.

"Where'd you find _him_?" she demanded, sending a glare at Tyson.

I was really happy to see her after almost no contact for ten months, but after facing cannibal giants (who I belatedly remembered Odysseus met), Tyson had really helped keep a lot of people out of harm's way, and now Annabeth was looking at him like _he_ was the problem.

"At school." I told her hotly. "I came to find him."

She stood there, shocked, not expecting that kind of answer. "What?"

"Poseidon wanted me to find him, and bring him home."

Tyson looked surprised. "Daddy sent you?"

"He can talk?"

I ignored Annabeth, turning to face Tyson. "Yeah big guy, your daddy sent me to come get you. He wants to get to know you." I said, rubbing his arm comfortingly. It must have been a shock for him, to know that his dad wanted him.

"Kenna, we have bigger problems right now." Annabeth interrupted. "Have you been having the dreams?" That caught my attention.

"The dreams…about Grover?"

She paled. "Grover, what about Grover?"

I told her my dream. "What are you dreaming about?"

Her eyes looked stormy, a sign that her mind was racing at a hundred miles an hour.

She spoke at last, "Camp; big troubles at camp."

"Camp?! What's going on at camp?" aside from the apartment mom had, camp was the one other place I considered home. When I left, everything was in order, nothing out of place, no immediate dangers.

"I don't know exactly, but something is wrong. We have to get there right away. Monsters have been chasing me all the way from Virginia, trying to stop me. Have you gotten a lot of attacks?"

I shook my head. "Not till today."

"None? But how…" her eyes drifted to Tyson, or more specifically, his face. "Oh"

Tyson, fascinated with Annabeth's hair, reached out to touch it, but she slapped his hand away. I let him touch mine though, to keep him relaxed.

"Come on we need to get to camp," Annabeth said. "We'll talk in the taxi."

"All the way to camp?" I asked. "You know how much money-"

"Trust me."

"What about Tyson, I can't just leave him." I had promised to bring him to Poseidon, and I was going to do it come Hades or high water. Actually, high water would probably make it easier.

"Yeah." She said grimly. "We definitely need to take him."

I didn't like the way she said that, like he was some sort of mon-…Ooohh, that's why. But still, I told her he was with me this whole time. If he really wanted to kill me, he already had several opportunities to do so without an issue. Surely she understood that? Either way, I followed her down the alley, Tyson just behind me. Together the three of us sneaked through the side streets of downtown while police and firemen dealt with the remains of Meriwether Prep.'s gymnasium.

**/Line Break/**

"Here" Annabeth stopped us on the corner of Thomas and Trimble. She fished around her backpack. "I hope I have one left."

She looked a lot worse for wear than I originally realized. Her arms and cuts and scratches all over, there were twigs and leaves in her ponytail, and some slashes on her jeans looked suspiciously like claw marks…

"What are you looking for?" I asked.

I could still hear sirens wailing, it wouldn't be long before some cops cruised by, looking for suspicious teenagers. I'm sure Sloan already gave a statement by now; no doubt that he twisted the story around so that Tyson and I were crazed arsonists.

"Yes!" exclaimed Annabeth, "I knew I had one left, thank the gods." She pulled out a golden drachma, the currency of Mount Olympus, and legal tender for any mythological transaction. One side had the face of Zeus; the other had the Empire State Building on it.

"Annabeth, I'm pretty sure taxis don't take big gold coins."

"_Stop, O chariot of damnation!" _that wasn't the most comforting thing I ever heard.

She threw her coin into the street, but instead of clattering on the pavement, the coins just sank right through and disappeared.

Everything seemed to go silent, I couldn't hear sirens, or cars, or any other noise outside of our own breathing.

Then, just where the coin had fallen, the asphalt darkened. It melted into a rectangular pool about the size of a parking spot, bubbling red liquid like blood, and then a car erupted from the ooze.

It was definitely a taxi, but not like anyone you'd ever find normally. For starters it wasn't yellow, but smoke gray. I mean it literally looked like a hanging cloud of smoke hanging there. There were words printed on the door, something along the lines of GYAR SSIRTES-but my dyslexia kept me from figuring out what it said.

The passenger window rolled down, and an old woman stuck her head out. She had a thick mop of grizzled hair covering her face, and she spoke in a mumbling way, like her mouth was full of cotton balls. "Passage? Passage?"

"Three to camp Half-Blood." Annabeth said, opening the cab's back door. She waved me in, like this was a completely normal and safe car.

"Ach!" the old woman hissed. "We don't take _his _kind!"

She pointed a bony finger at Tyson.

Gosh, what does it take for people to be nice?

"Extra pay," Annabeth insisted. "Three more drachma on arrival."

"Done!" the woman rasped.

Reluctantly I got in the cab. Tyson squeezed in the middle, and Annabeth crawled in last.

The inside too was smoke like, but it felt solid enough to me. The seat was cracked and very lumpy, as were most taxis, but instead of seatbelts there were large black chains. I don't think those would be very helpful if we crashed, not at all.

There was no Plexiglas window separating us from the…old ladies? There wasn't one, but three old ladies crammed in the front, each of them with bony hands, stringy gray hair covering their faces, and charcoal-colored sackcloth dresses.

The one driving screeched, "Ha ha! Long Island! Out-of-Metro fare bonus!"

She slammed on the gas, and I was slammed into my seat. A prerecorded voice came over the speaker: _Hi, I'm Ganymede, cup-bearer to Zeus. And whenever I'm out buying wine for the Lord of the Skies, I always buckle up!_

'_Not with these seatbelts, I'm sure'_ I thought to myself.

The cab sped around the corner of West Broadway, and the gray lady sitting in the middle screamed, "Look out! Go left!"

"Well, if you'd give me the eye, Tempest, I could SEE that!" the driver complained.

Hold up a moment … _give her the eye?_

I wasn't given the chance to ask, because at that moment the car swerved to avoid oncoming traffic, ran over the curb with a rattling _Thud,_ and flew into the next block.

"Wasp!" the third said to the driver. "Give me the girl's coin, I want to bite it!"

"You bit it last time, Anger!" said the driver, who was apparently called Wasp. "It's my turn!"

"Red light!" screamed Tempest

"Break!" yelled Anger

Instead of slowing to a stop, she sped up. We rode up over the curb and took the corner, the tires screeching, and taking out a newspaper box along the way.

To put it mildly, they made Grover seem like a professional valet. At least he stayed in the street!

"Um, excuse me," I said. "But can you even see?"

"No!" screamed Wasp from the driver's seat

"No!" screamed tempest from the middle.

"Of course!" screamed Anger from shotgun.

One eye…one tooth…good gods, these were the Grey Sisters! The only story I could recall them from was Perseus's myth. Though, I couldn't quite remember what they did.

I leaned over towards Annabeth. "Are you nuts? They're going to get us killed!" I whisper-yelled

"Hey," she said, "Grey Sisters Taxi is the quickest way to camp."

"Oh good, they'll find our bodies sooner then."

Next to me, Tyson started to groan and clutch the seat. "Not feeling so good."

"Oh, boy," I said. Tyson's stomach didn't care for car trips, as I found out during a school fieldtrip. It wasn't pretty, and I didn't want to be anywhere nearby if he spewed. "Hang in there Ty. Does anyone have a garbage bag or something?"

The sisters were too busy fighting amongst themselves to notice. I looked over at Annabeth, who was hanging on for dear life. "Why didn't you take the cab from Virginia?"

"That's outside their service area," she said, like I should already know. Well sorry; I don't take taxi rides of death regularly. "They only serve Greater New York and surrounding communities"

"We've had famous people in this cab!" Anger exclaimed. "Jason*! You remember him?"

"Don't remind me!" Wasp wailed. "And we didn't have a cab back then, you old bat. That was three thousand years ago!"

"Give me the tooth!" Anger reached out for Wasp's mouth, but Wasp smacked her hand away.

"Only if Tempest gives me gives me the eye!"

"No!" yelled Tempest. "You had it yesterday!"

"But I'm driving!"

"Excuses! Turn! That was your turn!"

Wasp swerved hard onto Delancey Street, causing Tyson to press me against the door. She punched the gas and we shot up the Williamsburg Bridge at seventy miles an hour, barely dodging other cars as we sped along.

The sisters fighting heated up, as they were actually hitting and grabbing at each other. Anger was grabbing at Wasp's face and Wasp was doing the same to Tempest. Their hair was flying all over the place, and their mouths were open, screaming and yelling various expletives.

Eventually Anger, with the advantage of sight, ripped a mossy yellow tooth out of Wasp's mouth. This made her so mad she swerved to the edge of the bridge, yelling, "Gibi back! Gibi back**!"

Tyson groaned and his stomach churned.

"Uh, can we please not die today?!" I said

"Don't worry," Annabeth assured me, not sounding very assured herself. "The Gray Sisters know what they're doing. They're really wise."

"Yes, wise!" Anger grinned in the rearview mirror, flashing her hideous, near toothless smile. "We know things!"

"There's a difference between knowledge and wisdom."

"Every street in Manhattan!" Wasp bragged anyways, still whacking her sister. "The capital of Nepal***!"

"The location you seek!" Tempest added fervently.

She was pummeled on either side by her sisters instantly, screeching, "Be quiet! Be quiet! She didn't even ask yet!"

That definitely caught my attention. "Location? What location do I seek? Where-"

"Nothing!" Tempest quickly replied. "Nothing at all."

"Tell me."

"No!" they all screamed.

"The last time we told was terrible!" Tempest roared

"Eye tossed in lake!" Anger agreed.

"Years to find it again!" Wasp moaned. "Speaking of-Give it back!

"No!"

"Eye!" Wasp yelled. "Gimme!"

She smacked her sister Anger upside the head. There was as sickening _pop_ and a bloodshot, green eyeball bounced around the front until it was accidentally batted back, over Wasp's shoulder, and into my lap.

I sat, shocked silent, and more than a little grossed out.

"I can't see!" The sisters screamed in unison.

"Give me the eye!" Wasp wailed.

"Give her the eye!" echoed Annabeth.

"I'm not touching that thing!" I said

The taxi slammed against the guard rail, and skidded along with a horrible grinding sound; the entire cab was shaking and billowing gray smoke as if it were about to dissolve from the strain.

"Going to be sick!" Tyson warned.

"Annabeth," I yelled, "Give Tyson your backpack!"

"Are you crazy? Give them the eye!"

Wasp yanked on the wheel, and the taxi swerved away from the rail. We barreled down the bridge toward Brooklyn, going faster than any taxi had a right to. The Gray Sisters screeched and pummeled each other while crying out for their eye.

I swallowed down the urge to vomit, and picked it up from the seat (it had thankfully rolled off of me earlier). It was disgusting and a little bit slimy, but I held on to it.

"Good girl!" anger cried, like she knew I had her missing peeper. "Give it back!"

"Not until you explain," I told her. "What were you talking about? What location do I seek?"

"No time!" Tempest yelled. "Accelerating!"

I looked out the window, and, sure enough, trees and neighborhoods were now zipping bye in a blur. We were already out of Brooklyn, heading through the middle of Long Island.

"Kenna," Annabeth warned, "they can't find our destination without the eye. We'll just keep accelerating until we break into a million pieces."

"They have to answer me first." I said, loud enough for them to hear me. "Or I'll open the window and throw it into oncoming traffic."

"No!" the Gray Sisters wailed. "Too dangerous!"

"I'm rolling down the window."

"Wait!" the Gray Sisters screamed. "30, 31, 75, 12!"

"What?" What the heck did that mean? Was that a code or something?

"30, 31, 75, 13!" Anger repeated. "That's all we'll tell you, hearth-daughter. Now give us the eye! Almost to camp!"

I hesitated, but they told me what I asked for…I think. I threw the eye into Wasp's lap.

The old woman snatched it up, pushed it into her eye socket. "Whoa!"

She slammed on the breaks. The taxi spun a couple of times in a cloud of smoke and squealed to a halt in the middle of the farm road, just at the base of Half-Blood hill.

Tyson belched. "Better now."

I looked out the window towards camp, and suddenly under stood why Annabeth was so worried.

There, at the crest of the hill, was a group of campers under attack.

Oh, boy.

**/Line Break/**

***Never once are the Gray Sisters mentioned in the tale of Jason and the Argonauts, but they are a part of Perseus's myth.**

****in cannon, she said "Ivit back", but without a tooth, how can she pronounce a T sound? She can't, so I changed that bit.**

*****The capital of Nepal is Kathmandu. And I knew that off the top of my head!**

**/Line Break/**

**Hey there guys!**

**I hate that I couldn't think of a major way to change this part of the story, but I did what I could. I might have a second look at it later to see if I can change it, but I'll keep chugging on for now.**

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